Longing
by Revhead
Summary: While in confessional Dean allowed his suppressed longings to rise to the surface. One hundred miles away, Cas could sense it. Set after 10x16.


**Longing**

The long drive back to the bunker was quiet and subdued. There were unspoken words hanging between them but, even though he knew Sam was willing to listen, Dean just wasn't ready to talk.

He had expressed some of what he was feeling to the priest at confessional and it had felt safe, secret. He hadn't had to face the man and he had known that his words would not leave that church. With the poor man dead and the eavesdropping ghost dealt with, no one would ever know what he had said in there.

Dean knew. Saying it out loud had forced him to admit to himself that he wasn't okay, and it was hard to go back to pretending. But even if he wanted something different for his life, he knew where this was going. He was going to die, and what he had hoped would someday be was never going to happen. There was no point in dwelling on it. The dull ache in his heart would have to be ignored.

He tried to convince himself that his feelings on the matter had been left behind at the church, and with each passing mile he regained control over his emotions. This was why he couldn't tell Sam. Sam would ask questions, delve deeper, try to help, try to make him believe that he could and should be happy. He would only make all of this harder in the end.

Dean had no illusions. The life of a hunter was short and bloody. When he had accepted the Mark he had signed his own death warrant and since it had allowed him to rid the world of Abbadon he couldn't regret his decision. He didn't want to die, but he had long since learned that what he wanted didn't matter. As a child he had wanted his mother back. He had wanted to stop moving around. He had wanted to find acceptance and friendship at school. He had wanted his dad and his brother to stop fighting. But he never got anything that he wanted, and he learned to focus on different things – namely, saving people and killing monsters.

He never ever let himself admit that he wanted a family. Sam was his family and that was good enough for him.

If it hurt to see couples hand in hand, or children with their parents, he never let on. That wasn't his life. He hunted so that normal people could live their lives happy and carefree; it wasn't an option for him. He dared to dream that someday Sammy could have that normal, apple pie life, but he never dreamed it for himself. Good thing too, because this was it for him. He was dying. Whether the Mark killed him because his human body couldn't handle it, or because he hulked out again and someone had to gank him before he hurt anyone else, there was no coming back from this. There was no cure.

No hope. No future.

He was at peace with that. Or at least he had come to accept it.

He was fine. Really.

Sam wasn't going to press the issue. When they got back to the bunker Dean would be able to hide in his room and blast music through his headphones and drown in booze until the pangs in his chest couldn't be felt anymore.

When they pulled up to the bunker, though, all of Dean's plans were blown out of the window.

Cas was there. His Lincoln was parked out front and he was leaning against the bonnet, as though he had been there a while.

"Hey, Cas," Sam greeted, pulling his lanky frame out of the car and closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked.

"I came to check in with you."

Dean pulled the key to the bunker out of his pocket, walking past the angel to head inside. "Could have just called. Or texted."

"It has been a month since I last saw you."

"Yeah, well, we've been busy."

Sam shot his brother a look that said _What the hell is going on with you?_ "Sorry, Cas, long day. It's good to see you."

Dean knew he was being cold and standoffish. It was unfair, but he had his reasons and he wasn't about to explain. "Well, as you can see we're good. So if you've got somewhere to be…"

"May I come in?" Cas asked.

Dean shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm gonna hit the shower."

He left Sam and Cas staring after him and shut himself in the bathroom. Stepping into the hot spray, he forced himself to close his eyes and breathe deeply.

He really didn't need this right now. It was only going to make everything harder.

He took his time, hoping Cas would be gone by the time he ventured out. Instead, he found Cas sitting on the edge of his bed waiting for him.

"Dude, ever heard of privacy?"

"Yes."

"Well, this is my room and I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

"Not yet," Cas said.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Since when do you dictate what I do?"

"You need to talk to me, Dean."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Did Sam put you up to this?"

"No."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"You called me."

"What? No I didn't."

"Perhaps not intentionally, but I heard you from miles away. I couldn't pin point your location so I came here to await your return."

"Well sorry to say you've wasted a trip. I didn't call you."

"Angels don't just hear prayers. We can pick up on other things… you wanted to call me, I could sense it. And you want me here still, despite your words and body language telling me to go."

"Your spidy sense is broken."

"I don't think so. And I'm not leaving until you tell me what happened on this hunt."

"Nothing. It was a simple ghost hunt."

"So the intense emotions you were feeling earlier were not connected to the hunt. What caused them, then?"

"Nothing. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Dean. Sam said you went to confession and you took longer than he expected considering you were just supposed to be setting yourself up as bait for the ghost."

"That is none of his business. Or yours for that matter."

"You've never spoken to a priest before. Since I pulled you from perdition, your spiritual questions and emotional needs have usually been expressed to me. But I haven't heard your prayers recently."

Dean twitched irritably. "Not like you ever listened."

"I remember every word. I didn't always respond when you wanted me to but I always listened, Dean. And I would hope by now that you trust in our friendship enough to feel like you can be open with me – in person."

"It was nothing. Stupid, really. Just a moment of weakness. I was feeling a bit down, you know, with the mark and all. But the moment passed and I'm fine now."

Cas looked at him in that disconcerting way he always had, as though he was staring straight through Dean into his soul. "The emotions you felt in that confessional haven't stopped, Dean. You may have tried to wall them off, but if anything they have been growing stronger since I've been talking to you. Please, Dean. I can feel that you are hurting and I want to help."

"There's nothing you can do. It's my crap, I have to deal."

"You're not alone, Dean. You have Sam and you have me. We're here for you, you just have to let us in."

"I can't. It will only make things worse."

"Dean." Cas stood and moved into his personal space. He met Dean's gaze and wouldn't let him look away. "Talk to me."

"Fine. No one has said anything, but we're all thinking it; this mark isn't coming off. Which either means it'll kill me slow and painful, or I'll go dark and you'll have to kill me. I'm a dead man and we all know it."

"There's more. You're frightened."

"Fear of death is one of those instinctual things that is hard to shake."

"You don't want to die."

Dean shrugged. "Doesn't matter what I want. I'm dying and that's all there is to it."

"You have been close to death before, but it has never bothered you in this way."

"Dude, would you stop with the angel vibes? You can't just use your mojo to read everything I'm thinking."

"I don't have to. I know you well enough by now."

That was bullcrap.

Cas had taken one look at him in that barn all those years ago and just _known._ He had always been able to read Dean better than anyone else.

"What was all that stuff you were spouting about 'sensing' my emotions, then?"

"I can't sense all of them. But your longing came through loud and clear."

"L-longing?" Dean sputtered.

"Yes. I can feel it even now. I don't think any other angel has ever discovered this ability to pick up on more than just prayers, but then no other angel has developed such a profound bond with a human before."

Dean flushed. "You can't go around talking about 'profound bonds'. People will think that you… we… well, you know."

"Feel more for each other than we let on?"

Dean stared at Cas in shock.

"Admittedly, it took me a long time to realise. I couldn't work out what these strange sensations were that kept pulsing across the prayer line when no words were being spoken. But in Purgatory I could feel it all the time and when you came for me, when you refused to leave me behind even when I was endangering you… I knew."

Dean swallowed nervously.

"But I also knew that it couldn't be, at least not then. I was not in a good place emotionally, and then Naomi messed with my head and you were angry with me and Sam was in trouble… everything got pushed to the side. What I could sense from you didn't line up with your actions – I had never felt your longing stronger than when you kicked me out of the bunker, but you never asked me to return. It was obvious that other things were more important."

"Cas-"

"I know what happened, you don't have to explain. I'm just saying… I know. And if you're honest with yourself, you know too. You let yourself admit it, at least partially, in that church and I can tell that you are struggling to bury the feelings that you dredged up. I am here to let you know that you don't have to. You can if you want, of course, but if you ever decide you want something more than this life you have been living, more than the fighting and destruction and fear and death, then all you have to do is ask."

"You don't understand," Dean croaked. "It doesn't matter what I want. It is too late."

"It's never too late."

"I'm dying."

"We will find a way to save you."

"It can't be done."

"I raised you from Hell. I have saved your life more times than I can count and I helped you to defeat Lucifer. I am not about to stand by and let his mark destroy you. My Fallen brother _cannot_ have you, do you understand? You are _mine._ And I _will_ save you, as I always have."

He spoke so passionately and he sounded so sure, Dean almost wanted to believe him.

Cas took a calming breath. "The question is, what will you do then?"

"You want me to try to picture a life where I don't die bloody?"

"Yes. Try, Dean."

Dean's brow wrinkled. He'd had a half-formed image in his mind once of what happiness might look like. It involved Lisa and Ben and a white picket fence and a normal 9 to 5 job. But he had tried that and it hadn't ended well. He didn't think he could try for something like that again.

_There's people, feelings, that I want to experience differently than I have before. Maybe even for the first time._

Who was he kidding? He knew what he wanted.

He knew who he wanted.

"If I don't die in the immediate future," Dean said, "then I think I might want to… I'd like to… maybe try to go somewhere with this." He gestured helplessly between them, feeling awkward and unsure. "With us."

It would be weird and new and different, and possibly even totally insane.

He was crazy for considering this.

But after so many years of holding back, of denying himself what he wanted, of ignoring his feelings and trying to live every day with no hope to hold onto… He couldn't do it anymore.

Cas was here, and he was patient and gentle and understanding, and he would wait for him. He had been waiting for him.

"Even if you can't save me," Dean whispered. "I don't think I want to wait any longer."

His gaze flicked to his angel's lips. He wondered what they tasted like, had wondered that often and nearly even asked Meg. He never thought he would ever have the chance to find out for himself.

But Cas ran his tongue over his bottom lip and Dean was entranced, unconsciously mirroring the action. Cas cupped his face with his hand and raised his chin to draw Dean's eyes back to meet his. They smouldered with want. He leaned in closer so that there was barely an inch between them and their breath mingled.

Dean could die tomorrow, or he could live for another fifty years. Either way, he wanted this. He wanted Cas.

"You have me," Cas murmured. "Always, Dean."

Dean kissed him.

And for a moment, just a moment, he let himself believe.

ooOOoo


End file.
